“So do you want the onions in those little squares, or long half-moons?” the hubs asked.
“Squares. Then add them to the frypan and turn the heat to medium.”
We were in the kitchen prepping dinner. As is our habit, I took on the major tasks while he acted as sous-chef, chopping, boiling, prepping whatever ingredients I instructed. It was all going swimmingly.
Only problem was, my timing was off. I’d assumed we’d be ready to eat in about 30 minutes; turned out it was going to be about an hour.
And we were ravenous.
As I finished chiffonading some fresh basil, I glanced over to where the hubs stood near the fridge. What was that in his hand?
Say what? A piece of coconut cream pie?! And–horrors!--he was raising it toward his mouth!
“What is that?” I asked (as if I didn’t know). I sounded like a mother chiding her toddler for doodling with indelible markers on the walls.
“Are you eating the pie? But–that’s for dessert!!”
“I know,” he said, entirely unfazed. “But I’m hungry now. So I thought I’d eat this first, and can have the dinner when it’s ready.”
The color drained from my cheeks. What kind of monster had I married?!
Clearly, he didn’t get it. Dessert came after dinner, silly; and you weren’t permitted to indulge until you’d eaten a healthy meal first.
In the house where I grew up, there was no such thing as “eat dessert first.” In fact, anything we ever wished to acquire as children involved a long, arduous display of ratiocination and the persuasiveness of Atticus Finch in the courtroom. Invariably, our plea was followed by my dad’s noncommittal, “We’ll see. If you [insert desired action], then maybe.”
For example, when I was seven and coveted a banana-seat bicycle like all of my friends, I couldn’t understand why I’d be denied. After all, I didn’t yet have my own bicycle–and this one was sooooo cool!
After days of presenting the evidence (to wit, I was excluded from regular activities with my friends without it, it would be a great way for me to get extra exercise, I’d be outside more, it would teach me to take care of an important possession, et cetera), pleading and exhorting, my father finally countered with: “We’ll see. If you keep your room clean for a month, then maybe.”
Or something like this: asking permission to go on an independent vacation with my best friend when we were 17. My friend’s parents agreed immediately, while I spent weeks pleading, whining, making promises to check in daily by phone (a big deal, since that trip preceded cell phones by several decades. Instead, what you’d do to let your parents know you were okay was to “call collect” so they could refuse the call–but know that you were still alive) and be on my best behavior.
Eventually, my father relented with, “We’ll see. If you save the money to pay for the entire trip and Ali’s parents are still okay with it in a month, then maybe.” (I did end up going on that first adventure to California and had the time of my life, sneaking into CBS studios at 6:30 AM and spending the day with our favorite soap opera actors from The Young and the Restless. Because you could do crazy stuff like that in the 70s without risking your life. And somehow, I bet Victor was still in the cast back then).
Naturally, we all hated my father’s automatic “no,” when asked for anything new. But if nothing else, his miserly approach to virtually any request from his children taught us one key skill: we can defer gratification like nobody’s business.
According to Tony Robbins (who, I assume, knows at least a little bit about how to be successful in life), the skill of “delayed gratification” (or “resisting the temptation of an immediate reward, in anticipation that there will be a greater reward later”) is critical because it teaches you to forgo a quick reward now for a larger reward later–a skill that contributes to success in all aspects of life.
Now, you wouldn’t think that dogs, necessarily, would excel at delayed gratification. After all, that spilled liver treat isn’t going to wait on the floor forever.
But–despite her natural instincts to do otherwise–delayed gratification is exactly what Zoey practices when we feed her each day. Sure, it’s not her choice, but she acquired that skill after much training.
The hubs and I talk to our dogs a lot. Nicknames abound. Calls for pats and treats are doled out aplenty. But if I had to guess, I’d say the most-uttered expression in our house is, “GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN.”
You see, we have a rule that no dogs may enter the kitchen while a human is in it. Why? Because once, many moons ago, our first dog, Elsie, almost scorched her nose poking at the blazing-hot stove while I baked something or other. And I vowed at that moment to ensure no dog would ever be harmed in the making of a dessert again.
As it happens, our first floor is “open concept,” so the kitchen abuts the living room and also the den, with the only demarcation between rooms being the shift from white tile to tan parquet.
With our first two, Elsie and Chaser, this concept of “out of the kitchen” seemed fairly easy to implement. While they may not have loved waiting to get their dinner (or a nibble of ours), they dutifully obliged and stayed beyond the tiles until called in.
Zoey, on the other hand, was another story.
Not only did she repeatedly defy our command, showing up unannounced and drooling by my side as I ate dinner, she was vocally unhappy about having to wait for us to prepare her food.
Howling, yipping, whining, even barks greeted me every time I doled out the dog dinner. You’d think the poor girl hadn’t been fed in months (not to mention the whole process takes only about 1.7 minutes). For a dog like Zoey, deferring gratification for even a nanosecond seemed beyond her abilities.
Zoey is NOT HAPPY having to wait for her food.
Yet, over time, she relented. As she began to understand that the reward arrived AFTER she waited outside the bounds of the tile area, she was more and more compliant. Nowadays, when I trudge downstairs to boil the kettle for my morning tea, I’ll often glance behind me to see Zoey lying on the carpet just outside the room–having arrived so silently that I didn’t even realize she was there.
Currently, we’re in the process of training our new boy, Jasper, to honor the rules as well. Luckily, Zoey seems to be a good role model and he’s adapting fast. I’m able to prep dinner, feed the dogs, eat my own meal with the HH and then, once all is completed, call the dogs for their treat (in acknowledgement of their patience).
Sure, sometimes I feel a little like a miserly boss, making the minions wait for a paltry bite of dehydrated liver. But, as my father might have said, “It will make them appreciate it more.”
Or will it?
Do you think deferring gratification is a good thing? Or basically just unwarranted torture? Let me know your thoughts.
**Oh, and that banana-seat bicycle? Yes, I did eventually manage to cajole pester browbeat convince my dad to let me have it. I rode that thing for years, even once my legs had grown too long and my knees hit the handle bars while pedaling. Definitely worth the wait.
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Follow up to last week’s challenge: Persevere until you reach your goal
Okay, so I admit, you’re talking to a convert here.** As someone who used to abandon my goal almost immediately when faced with even miniscule challenges, I can assert that these days, I will persist for much, much longer before admitting defeat. Business life is a perfect example.
I recently offered a new program that I’ve never offered before. In the past, my conversion rate (ie, the percentage of people to whom I’d marketed directly and who also bought the program) was around 25%--insanely high for an online business. So I figured I’d have similar results this time.
What I didn’t factor into the equation, however, was the newness of the offer and the relatively small size of my novel audience in this field.
The result? Some great feedback, but minimal sales. Bummer!
In the past, this outcome would have sent me into paroxysms of self-recrimination, self-doubt and even self-loathing. Thoughts like, “What is wrong with me? Why can’t I make the kind of sales that XXX makes? Why don’t people want my products? Why does my marketing suck so much?” would have dominated my mind for days, perhaps even weeks. Which would have led to less marketing, fewer offers, and, ultimately, a failed business.
Instead, I looked at the situation as a scientist would (a real scientist, not some of the ones we’ve encountered over the past three years). In other words, I examined the data without attributing emotional meaning to any of it. When you know the numbers, you can adjust your behaviors.
Why the change of heart? It’s easy: I’ve now been doing this long enough to know that it’s not personal.
Here’s the thing. We never take “failure” to heart in areas where we already feel confident. Think about it: if someone said, “You’re an awful mum” or “You have no idea how to mow the lawn properly” or (in my case) “you’re an awful baker” when you’re already extremely confident about that particular skill, their comment likely wouldn’t touch you.
I’ve been baking since I was six years old. I’ve created more than 1500 original recipes and I’ve had three best-selling cookbooks published (one of which was recommended by Ellen DeGeneres). If someone ate a piece of my grain-free, sugar-free brownie and said, “This tastes like crap!”, I’d assume the problem was with their taste buds, not with my confection.
It’s taken me longer to achieve that state of mind when it comes to my business, since I’ve had far fewer years of experience in that area and I know I’m still learning. But after working online for almost 15 years, I do know a few things. And I’ve seen enough case studies and heard from enough successful entrepreneurs to know that this path isn’t unusual.
Seems to me the key is finding the right headspace to both accept the facts of the matter–say, a program doesn’t sell as you’d like it to–and also keep your response objective so it doesn’t reflect on you personally. Even Itzhak Perlman hit the wrong note sometimes.
**Yes, I realize we are not really talking. But “you are reading a convert, here” just didn’t have the same ring to it.
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I don't think delayed gratification is the be all and end all. yes, it can be useful but not always. People can use it to "buy into" messages from the culture that are harmful. Some examples might include over working, not take care of oneself and lead to the development of eating disorders. So yes, delayed gratification has a place, but it needs to be employed with compassion and discernment.
Delayed gratification is a BIG problem for me - do I want that cookie (ice cream, cake, pie, bread, .....) or do I want a healthy body? Hmmm...usually healthy blood sugar wins out, but sometimes...Nope, the treat wins.. Still cultivating patience and good habits